


Golden Tiger, Silver Spider II

by Conduitstreetcat, TheGreenFaerie



Series: Golden Tiger, Silver Spider [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Retirement
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-14 10:49:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28794204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Conduitstreetcat/pseuds/Conduitstreetcat, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGreenFaerie/pseuds/TheGreenFaerie
Summary: This is the sequel to Golden Tiger, Silver Spider (https://archiveofourown.org/works/23288074/chapters/55773262), which was the fic won by Hibernia in our Fandom Trumps Hate auction.Since a requirement of the auction is that you actually *finish* the work before the year is over, we closed the first book and started a new one, continuing where we left off!The play list is the same: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3clJAFt00kLPkqIcUW5vkV?si=zz67kvtbSdidCUcZIbTBfA
Relationships: Sebastian Moran/Jim Moriarty
Series: Golden Tiger, Silver Spider [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2111100
Comments: 18
Kudos: 8
Collections: FaerieCat Mormor





	1. Driven by Desire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hibernia1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hibernia1/gifts).



I try to kiss you in the car, and you’re not having it.

“ _I said_ in my private chambers, Moran,” you say severely.

A thrill moves through me.

I lean back in the seat, and cross one leg over the other.

“You’re the Boss,” I drawl, and light up a cigarette.

_"So I am..."_

_I can't wait to see those pictures. What a great idea, Victoria._

_"So, tell me, Moran... have you ever been *fucked* by a man?"_

_Oh_... the captive crime boss, mesmerized by a certain dark-eyed man...

I exhale slowly, and look at you through the smoke.

“I’ve had some experiences...” I say slowly. “But never - that-“

_Ohhhh... yummy._

_"And yet you are here... smoking unconcerned... your legs crossed to hide an erection. Are you so eager, Sebastian? To be taken... to be *possessed* by a man?"_

As I take a drag from my cigarette, I choke for a moment.

Oh, you’ll love that...

My heart rate quickens as the drama unfolds...

“I-“ I cough into my sleeve. “You have a way with words, Mr Moriarty...”

_"Hmmmm... so they say... yet you seem to be uniquely receptive, Mr Moran... I do look forward to getting to know you better."_

Feeling flushed, I study you and smoke my cigarette.

“Uniquely receptive, am I? That’s a first...”

_"Oh? Does that mean I'm *special*?"_

“I’d say you’re pretty fucking special...” I say, my voice rough and purring.

“You took me down, didn’t you? Another first...” I inhale and blow smoke rings towards the ceiling of the car.

_"Are you saying you've never gone down? You seemed such a natural..."_

I stare up at the ceiling, smirking. “Maybe once or twice... a lifetime ago.”

_"Ah, boarding school experiences? Putting dozens of adolescent boys together in a closed environment... I can only assume whoever thought that up was *very* keen on them experimenting. I have to say, you're a natural... I'm sure with some proper... training... you will be a star."_

Ah yes, boarding school...

Memories...

I stifle a grin.

“Training?” I repeat, arching an eyebrow. “You’re going to train me to be your plaything?”

_"Depends..." I raise an eyebrow. "Is that the extent of your talents?"_

My eyes lock on yours. “There is no end to my talents, Mr Moriarty...”

_"Really..." My eyes gleam. "I do look forward to sampling them *all*..."_

Fuck... how far away is the hotel - Texas??

“Oh,” I breathe. “I think that might be possible...” My hand lands on your thigh and slowly makes its way up.

_"I believe we're here," I nod as the car comes to a stop at the James. "Now, come with me - and don't think of trying anything stupid..."_

“Now whatever would make you think I would do such a thing?” I ask, all innocence. “Anyway - you’ve intrigued me enough that I’ll make sure to behave...” I say with a wink as we get out of the car and head towards the door.

The unspoken _For now_ hangs between us, the air so charged that it practically sizzles...

Oh... I’m enjoying this little game of ours _very_ much, Jim...

_You're practically glowing. We do enjoy a good roleplay... we're both great actors and love getting really into our roles._

_I am enjoying being the big boss who's just landed a prize that's in way over his head, but doesn't quite know it yet..._

_We get to the room, and I open the door. "After you..."_

I give you a bright smile and then side-eye as I pass. Which of course you notice...

Fuck... this foreplay is so epically hot, it’s nearly impossible not to just grab you and push you against the wall... push my already semi-hard cock against that luscious arse, and just -

Right... just _breathe_ , Seb...

_"So, Moran..." I say as I gesture towards a seat. "Where were we... I believe you had on fewer clothes."_

“Oh yes...” I breathe. “And I recall, you liked what you saw...”

I pull my t-shirt over my head and chuck it across the room. It lands at your feet and I grin. I slide off my shoes and socks, kicking them aside.

Then my hands move to my waistband, and my fingers trail over the fabric covering my cock. I look at you with slightly sarcastic deference, and you gesture at me to continue. I unfasten my trousers, and shuck them off.

I didn’t bother putting on pants, so I’m now good and naked for you.

“Something like this?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

_"*Very* keen, aren't you..." I smile. "So tell me... in the privacy of my chambers... did you set all this up because deep in your heart you *wanted* a confrontation with me? Because you'd heard the rumours... and they made you *desire*?"_

“Did I set this up?” I echo. “Imagine how much trouble I’d have had to go to... sacrificing my own stake in my organization, just to be taken captive by you...” I smile slowly. “Is this what you think I did, Mr Moriarty? Imagine - someone being _that_ driven by desire...?”

I don’t have to imagine at this point... it’s practically burning me up from the inside...

_"Desire to no longer be the one in charge... desire to be out of that loveless marriage... desire to be close to a man who *fascinates* you... desire to feel a man's body under your hands, feel a man's hands handle you... oh, I think there is a *lot* of desire there, Mr Moran..."_

“You seem to know a great deal about it, Mr Moriarty...” I breathe, staring at you intently. “What do _you_ desire...?”

_"Oh..." I say and let my eyes shine. You swallow; your cock jumps._

_"I have long desired to feel a strong man surrender to me... a powerful man, as well, not just a muscular one. Feel him that is used to give orders give in... kneel in front of me, let me have my way with him, let him feel the passion of submission... and then have him beg for more."_

I swallow again. Jesus... I so want to do all these things... but surely you don’t want submission to be too quick or easy?

“I’m not the kind of man who begs... but if I said I wasn’t intrigued by you, you’d know I was lying... wouldn’t you...”

_"You'll be surprised to find out what kind of man you could be, Sebastian Moran..." I smile. "And yes, it's... quite clear from the body language._

_Now... if you were the one to direct what happens next, what would you say?"_

Oh... possibilities... what _would_ a captive crime lord say in such a situation? Naked and horny as hell... and _desperate_ to be tamed, but not yet knowing just how deep the desire goes...

“I would say... we should get comfortable and see where the evening takes us...” I give you a seductive smile, and lick my lips.

_"Ohhhh, no, disappointing..." I shake my head. "You don't want to be too *comfortable*, do you? *I* think you would really like to be just a little bit uncomfortable... just a *tiny* bit outside your comfort zone... and then a bit further... wouldn't you?"_

"Uncomfortable?" I echo. "Are you going to show me what you mean?"

_"Well... most men would find it uncomfortable to find themselves naked in the presence of another man who's fully dressed... but you're not most men, are you, Mr Moran._

_So to make you uncomfortable... I might have to hurt you, a little. Or - go where no man has gone before..."_

"Well right now, I'm uncomfortable as hell not satisfying my desires..." I say in a low purr, giving my cock a single stroke. "So maybe what you have in mind will be more pleasurable in the long run..."

_I walk near to you, breathe into your ear. "Do you think you will be able to keep still as I take you... or will I have to tie you down and gag you?"_

A shiver moves through me, and my eyes widen. Oh... god...

Well, playing the crime lord as helplessly falling under your spell certainly isn't a problem...

"I don't-" I clear my throat. "I don't know... what do you want me to do?" I hear myself saying in a daze.

_"Much as I'd love to tie you down and gag you, I think it would be even better to see you shiver to maintain your position, to hear your soft moans as I enter you..."_

_I see goosebumps appear on your neck._

_"On your knees, Moran... bend over the sofa. I promise I will be gentle... at first."_

My cock twitches at your words and the promise of being taken roughly... God, we should have done this particular scenario a long time ago...

Crime Lord Sebastian is more than ready to be possessed and fucked by you...

I stare at you for a long moment, and then slowly get to my knees and bend over the sofa as ordered.

_As often as I have seen you in this position, it's still a dizzyingly hot sight. I don't know what they used for lube in the 1930s, but I'll use our modern-day one, thank you very much... I nip into the bedroom, come out with the tube, put some on my finger._

_"This is going to feel a bit weird... but just relax, and I assure you it will start feeling good," I whisper to my virgin crime boss._

Would this crime boss tell you to hurry up and fuck him?

Maybe... but then, he'd probably be a little tense if his virgin arse was about to be taken...

"Oh, I'm no delicate flower..." I say, my voice breathier than the crime boss was going for.

_Aren't you now? Hmmm, this Crime Lord Moran likes living on the edge..._

_"That's good - means I don't need to be too careful. It doesn't come naturally to me..._

_so I'll just lube you up, and *take you* shall I?"_

A surprised laugh escapes me before I can stop myself. God, would the crime boss be in over his head...

"Fuck," I mutter. "Maybe not rough _right away_... Mr Moriarty... Sir..." The last word is a breathy plea. You'll love that...

_"Are you telling me what I can and cannot do, Moran?" I growl softly._

I steal a glance back at you, and I'm struck dumb for a moment by those dark eyes pinning me in place.

"N-no... Sir..." I stammer.

_"Maybe I want you to suffer a bit for *resisting* me for so long..." I say as I move my finger inside you. "Being in my way as I try to shoot to the top... you wouldn't do that again, would you, Moran?"_

“I’ll - do what you w-want-” I gasp, feeling your finger probe expertly and nudge against my prostate. “Enforce for you - kill for you - oh god - whatever you want-“

_“Sounds excellent... so much better to work together, isn’t it?” I move my finger, making you shiver._

_“But first... all I want is right here underneath me.”_

God... it’s so easy to imagine how I would feel in this situation... desperate for your touch, longing for your domination... _especially_ if men had been less accessible to me in this era.

How much I would have craved to be penetrated... you cock plunging into me...

“Fuck... I want you, too,” I groan, overcome with lust as single finger reduces me to a quivering mess...

_I pull my finger back and move myself into position. You’re not *actually* virgin territory after all..._

_“I’m glad to hear it, Moran... I think we are going to have a lot of fun together._

_Now, try to relax...”_

_I push in._

Oh god... I’ve got so carried away with this role, I let out a loud moan as you enter me.

“God...” I say, letting out a shaky breath. “It’s so- ” I gasp as you surge in deeper, and your nails dig into my hips.

“Fuuuck...” I pant, overcome by shivering. You push deeper still, and I’m pressed hard against the sofa cushion, my cock twitching.

_My crime lord appears to be taking to being taken..._

_"You're mine now, Sebastian Moran..."_

I groan with pleasure at your cock thrusting into me... your hands holding me in place... your words staking their claim...

The crime lord struggles for a moment, a final wall of resistance...

“Oh god...” I moan as I feel a hand on my cock - grasping me hard. My head falls back and my breath comes quicker and rougher.

_Fucking you is *always* an amazing experience, no matter how often we've done this - must be thousands of times over the years –_

_it's so incredibly *good*..._

_"Finally, Moran... you are where you've always wanted to be..."_

“God yes...” I pant, feeling myself shivering madly as you continue to stroke me. The last of the wall crumbles, and the crime lord is helpless in the face of your unfathomable power.

“I want to be - yours -“ The words are torn from my throat when you pull me hard against you as you fuck me, stroking me faster and faster...

_Mine._

_The word that always finds its way straight to my heart, to my cock, to wherever the seat of possessiveness is. Mine, mine, mine..._

_I thrust in deeply._

_"And mine you shall be..."_

I can tell by your voice this is getting to you too, we’re both so swept up in this, swept up in the emotions and sensations and - _fuuuuuck_ -

“*Yours*, Sir -“ I moan, feeling my muscles shivering... oh god...

_My Sebastian. My Tiger. My husband. My slave. My everything._

_The crime lord forgotten, so much less interesting than Sebastian Moriarty, Consort to the King of the World..._

_But I said I'd take you hard, and I will - I am - the sofa wobbles as I thrust inside you again and again._

My hands grip the cushions of the sofa to give me some leverage as you fuck me so deliciously hard and rough - I'm crying out, cursing and howling my pleasure towards the ceiling - good thing we're in the penthouse, but when you're driving me towards an epic meltdown, who - the fuck - cares - oh - god-

 _Jim_ –

_My hand is trying to move on your cock, but there's a sofa in the way, oh well, I'll take care of you in a moment, for now I need to ride you hard -_

_My back arches as I roar out my pleasure - thrust - *thrust* - oh *god* -_

_"Sebastian..."_

I feel you shaking as you come and then collapse against me...

We both remain there for what feels an eternity, panting...

My cock remains hard against the sofa. I suspect I won't have to wait too long...

"That sounded epic," I purr from underneath you.

_"It was..." I pant. As I open my mouth to say something more, the phone rings. I look at you, and burst out laughing._

_"Oh god - I'm going to have to reassure them that you haven't been murdered again..."_

I snigger. "Good luck with that..." I drawl. "I'll just be here, lying lifeless on the sofa..."

_"*Not* helping my case..." I snigger, pick up the insistent phone. "Hello?"_

_I hear nothing. No - not nothing. There is a sound on the other side, like there is a connection, but they're just not speaking. "Hello?" I ask again._

_A click; and the beeps of a disconnected line._

I’ve pulled myself up onto the sofa and flopped over onto my back... lying in repose with an erection, like a debauched figure from a Greek myth involving satyrs and nymphs.

“Oh dear... they haven’t moved on to calling the police, have they?” I yawn as you hang up.

_"Wrong number, I guess - it sounded like there was a connection, but no sound. Or maybe they couldn't hear me... anyway. Where *were* we, before we were so *cruelly* interrupted... let's see if I can finish this execution before the police break down the door..."_

I smirk. "Oh yes... best hurry, so we can have tea waiting for them. Since they'll have gone to all that trouble..."

_I move to the sofa. "Any space for me, by any chance?"_

_You move over, when the phone rings again. I curse, pick it up again - "Hello?"_

_"Good evening, Mr Corben... I am so sorry to disturb you, but we've had some - concerned guests' enquiries... is everything alright with you?"_

_I grin silently, wink at you. "I'm fine, thank you, why do you ask?"_

_"I'm very glad to hear it - it's just that - *several* rooms near yours reported unusual sounds - a shouting and banging..."_

_"Oh, don't worry... see, it's our second honeymoon - my husband and I have been married twenty-five years!"_

_I am silent until I hear a hesitant "Congratulations, Sir..."_

_"Thank you! So of course, we want to celebrate that with some *excellent* sex... I mean, sex with my husband is *always* spectacular, but well... we did get a bit carried away just now - can you blame us? I mean; have you *seen* him?!"_

_Silence._

_I wait patiently._

_"Eh - I - can't say -"_

_"Let me assure you, he's *simply scrumptious*. So of course I had to fuck him *hard*... and well, he's always been kind of vocal - haven't you, darling?"_

"Oh hell yes," I say loudly and cheerfully. "When you fuck like a god, it's bound to cause a commotion. Say goodnight now, dearest..."

_"I am - terribly sorry to have bothered you, Sir... please do enjoy your stay with us..."_

_"Oh, we *do*... thank you, good night!"_

_I hang up, giggling._

I chuckle and languidly reach for your hand to kiss it.

“Did they wish us many more wonderful orgasms during our stay?”

_"You know, they didn't... so thoughtless of them. *Now* where were we..."_

_I move to the sofa, where Little Seb is still patiently waiting. "It's a crying sin to leave such a beautiful cock unattended... Now, Mr Moran, are you mine? Mine to take, to give orders to, to do with what*ever* I like?"_

I give you a very heated look. “Whatever you desire, Mr Moriarty... Sir...”

_"I've always wanted a hot, capable crime lord of my own... one who looks drop-dead gorgeous in a suit, can hold his own in a fight, and has the sexiest *ass* this side of the Mississippi..."_

_I sit myself on your lap, stroke your cock, which shivers. I'm still fully dressed in my 1930s gear, but that doesn't seem to bother you in the slightest._

_"Now, Mr Moran... let me show you how I reward people who please me..."_

_I take you in my hand and start moving._

Crime Lord Moran is right back where you want him... in the palm of your hand.

My head falls back against the sofa. “Oh Christ... so - fucking - good - Sir-“ I breathe, as my cock twitches and my body begins to shiver so deliciously...

_"I know exactly how to handle someone like you..."_

_Don't I just._

_"You need a good, stern man to keep you in hand..."_

_I feel you getting harder, tighter, and move faster..._

“Fuck... yeah...” I groan. “Keep me in hand... please...”

My fingers grip the armrest behind my head.

“God... put me in my place...” I pant.

_I slap your face - not hard, but unexpected, and you startle, and groan, but your cock shivers in delight._

_"Don't tell me what to do, Moran..." I growl._

I flash a grin at you, eyes half-closed.

“My apologies... Sir...” I say quietly, settling my expression into a more neutral one. I’m finding it difficult to appear contrite during a hand job...

_My sweet Tiger, practically purring..._

_You've earned this, my love. I move faster, and your breaths grow shallower, your eyes close, your fingers clench, and there they are - the first moans, the pants of my name –_

Shuddering, gasping and groaning, my body goes into violent spasms... As my orgasm consumes me, I dimly hear myself crying out loudly.

When I find myself blinking up at you, I start to laugh in a daze.

“They didn’t call back to congratulate me?”

_That makes me laugh too. "How uncouth. Really, we should go downstairs and complain..."_

“At the very least, a sternly-worded online review...” I chuckle, and caress your arm.

_I laugh, move off you, and manoeuvre myself under your legs; lean back._

_"That was a *very* fine afternoon, don't you agree, Tiger? I can't wait to see the pictures..."_

_I'd told Jake to just send them all to us, but he got all *proper artist* and wanted to make a selection first. He'll also erase the JM over your heart - much as that scar is dear to me, it wouldn't fit the story..._

_Speaking of story - I remove your legs and get up, head to the bedroom, get my ring from the bedside table, and put it back on. Much better... 1930s James Moriarty wouldn't have been married, but 2030s James Moriarty very much is._

_"I must say, attractive as Mr Moran was, I do much prefer Mr Moriarty..."_

When you return wearing your ring, I beam. “Well, maybe we could bring him back once in a while... he was starting to see the light, but I think he may need to be worked over a bit more...” I say with a wink. I prop myself up on one elbow.

“God... would you believe I forgot all about the photo shoot? Just what are you going to do with the x-rated ones, my darling?”

_"I thought I'd send them as Christmas cards..." I grin._

_"We'll have to see - if any are particularly artistically pleasing, we could hang them in the bedroom - for Tez and Franckie to gaze disapprovingly at. Any less revealing ones might go on the wall of the study, where that Matisse is now - I've grown tired of it; maybe we should give it back to the museum. You and me in 1930s gear will look so much better... with a period-accurate frame..."_

“I always thought a good blow job was like a work of art...” I yawn. “If Renaissance artists could have got away with it, you know that’s what they would have been painting...”

I kiss your hair. “I’m sure the photos will be gorgeous...”

_“Sure, if you like, we'll hang the blow job in the living room, over the mantlepiece. That oil painting is getting outdated anyway... Hypatia is pissed off she's not on it. She's not on the blowjob picture either, of course - maybe we should shop her in..."_

I laugh out loud. “So there would be a cat in the corner looking indignant and affronted? Sounds like our bedroom...”

_"It does, actually... I don't think they'd let her into the Rockefeller Center, with her sharp nails. So, blow job in the study, giant portrait of the Queen of Everything She Surveys and Quite a Bit More in the living room?_

_We'll see what they look like, anyway. There were a few, where I could just *feel* the energy was just so powerful, and the light seemed just right - that I think will be really stunning pictures. Anyway. The day after tomorrow, Victoria said, we will meet up and can look at them?"_

“Yep... I have no doubt that the photos will be stunning... and that she’ll be keeping a collection for herself,” I say, lighting a cigarette.

_I gasp. "She'd *never*! Such a nice lady? What would she want to look at naked men for..."_

“The nice lady could put a lot of gay men to shame with her exploits... but I don’t want to offend your delicate sensibilities...” I grin, and offer you a drag from my cigarette.

_"Yes. Delicate and sensible, that's me. *Someone* has to be..." I smile._

_"So - dinner in the hotel? Or even room service? I'm not in the mood to go out... though I *do* look scrumptious."_

I look at you admiringly. “You’re a _vision_... it would be a shame to deny the world Jim Moriarty dressed to the nines. I suppose I would need to put something on?”

_I shrug. "If you insist. No, wait - you must. Otherwise people won't look at me. Could you wear camouflage, or all black? With a balaclava?"_

“I could dress in an SAS black ops uniform; would that work for you? You seemed to enjoy it on our first honeymoon...” I say with an innocent smile.

_"Hmmmm, did you bring one?" I ask, my eyes lighting up. You laugh. "No, I didn't - somehow I wasn't aware it would be required. I could probably get hold of one, like I did in Mexico, but you might get hungry waiting... Maybe a simple black suit? Or - dark grey, to look even more unremarkable?"_

_I pout. "You couldn't look unremarkable if you tried... I think half the reason I'm such a prima donna is that I had to outshine you, did you ever think of that?"_

I laugh out loud at this. “Oh and you _weren’t_ a prima donna before you met me?”

_"Hardly. Nowhere near," I grin. "Alright then; put on one of your new suits and dazzle the world. I'll walk along in your wake and bask in whatever little admiration gets past you..."_

“Like all eyes aren’t on you when you enter a room...” I scoff as I sit up. “You have the gravitational pull of a dark star, my love...”

_"And you are the sun of my life - we balance each other out perfectly," I grin, then go to make myself look presentable again._

I reach for the hotel phone and make a reservation. Then I grab my mobile, look at the time, and glance in the direction of the stairs. You’ll be busy for a while... perfect time to check on Matty.

I try his mobile. No answer. I fire off a message, and start scrolling through emails. A few minutes later, my phone rings with an unfamiliar number.

“Hello?”

“Seb. It’s Matty.”

“Hey, Matty! Is everything-“

“I can’t talk for long,” he says in a hushed voice.

I sit up straighter. “The wife might hear?” I say, trying to sound casual.

He laughs shortly. “Yeah, wouldn’t want that... Listen, I’ll have to call you back when I have more time. I just wanted you to know I’m alright.”

“That was thoughtful,” I say, considering the possibilities quickly. “Are you in some hot water with the Lexington account?”

“Nono...” he says quietly. “Just - some figures don’t add up with Maisie holdings. I’m looking into it.”

Maisie. MI6?

“Sounds like you’ve got it under wraps, mate...” I say, feigning cheeriness. “No need to send in reinforcements, eh?”

“Don’t worry about me, I’ve got this...” he says. His voice sounds off...

I pause. “I know you do. Call me soon, yeah? We’ll chat some more...”

“Yep.” He hangs up and I stare at the phone. Then I send a quick message to our head of security, and begin to read my messages more thoroughly.

_When I come in all refreshed, you're frowning at your phone, concentrating._

_"What's going on?"_

“Maybe nothing...” I mutter, sending off another message.

I look up at you, brow furrowed. “I checked in with Matty. He didn’t answer, then called me back from another number. Sounded weird. There’s something going on, and he seemed to want me to know that - but he didn’t want to tell me anything. So I spoke in code in case someone was listening, and - he said ‘some figures don’t add up with Maisie holdings’ and he’s looking into it. What the fuck would MI6 be poking around for? We haven’t had an issue with them for a while now...”

I can see the wheels moving in your head, clicking and whirring at speeds most of us can’t even fathom...

“Anyway he said he didn’t need help. So I take it that he’s not in imminent danger, and he’s dealing with this on his own. Which is good; he needs to be able to handle these things. I told him to contact me later so we could talk more...”

I sigh, and look at my phone again. “I sent some messages out in a few directions, just to be sure... his security Felipe just now confirmed he’s safe, but he’ll keep an eye out for anything unusual...”

_I frown. That doesn't make sense. We haven't done anything to ruffle their feathers for a good while now - and we have people on the inside keeping an eye on that we don't inadvertently end up on people's desks._

_"Have Elliot or Wanda been in touch at all?"_

_"Doesn't look like it," you shrug._

_I'm striding towards my laptop, when I catch myself._

_He *said* he didn't need help. He's never going to learn if his daddies jump in whenever he gets into hot water._

_Let him try to work this out on his own._

_Yeah... I'll *just* have a quick sweep to see if there's anything that strikes me as odd._

_"I won't be a minute, Tiger..." I mumble, starting up the laptop, thinking of possible snag points. Somalia... Taipei... San Bernardo... Shannan... Herat... none of them should have got British Intelligence involved._

_I have a quick swoop through the world-wide web... a few niggles here and there, as usual, but nothing that should raise any alarm bells for SIS. Maybe the coup in Ghana? That has MI6's interest, of course, but we only supplied weapons, were hardly involved..._

_After a good look, I close the laptop. "I can't see anything that should specifically interest them, or anything that seems particularly perturbed at the moment. Let's leave him to look into things - I don't think there's any immediate threat."_

Now you’re on it, too... If there’s something we need to be involved in, we’ll get to the bottom of it. I keep scanning my messages, getting responses back from the ones I sent.

“Yeah... no one’s aware of anything, beyond the usual plotting and scheming... he can handle it...”

I hope...

I look up. “You look stunning, darling...” I say, admiring you.

You smile. “And you look naked, darling...”

I glance down with a grin. “So I do... I’ll just remedy that...”

I hop up and head to the bedroom. “Stay off that laptop, sweetheart... “ I call over my shoulder.

_"Don't worry, I hardly have time with the speed you get dressed..." I call back, open my laptop again. Just a quick look over emails..._

_"I said no laptop," a mock-grumpy Tiger voice chides._

_I look up. You look ravishing in one of your new suits; your hair slicked back, new shoes and - I start laughing. "You brought the slipper cuff links?"_

I straighten my cuffs, a la James Bond, and raise my eyebrow at you

“Reminds me of home, I guess... and the little shit, too,” I mutter. “I guess I... can’t help but worry about him...”

_"Awwwwww, look at you - all paternal... so much love in that big Tiger heart," I smile. "I worry too, but mostly because if *he's* the most competent successor we have, it means the rest are even worse..." I roll my eyes._

_"Anyway. He'll be fine, we'll keep an eye on things, and now we shall dazzle the mortals with our appearance among them."_

“Dazzle we shall...”

I hold out a hand to you, and we head to the door.

In the lift, I look at our reflection in the mirror, and slide my arm around you. You smile, and I kiss your hair.

“You know... I actually think I’m missing London a bit... I’m loving this anniversary trip, and I _can’t wait_ to get back to Mexico. But it will be good to get back home...”

_"Really?" I'm surprised. You rarely seem sentimental about London._

_"I miss Hypatia, of course... but I can't wait to see the old Guarida. It's as much home as the pigeon loft..."_

_The lift pings, and we walk out into the restaurant. It's quite full, and eyes move towards us - discreetly, of course, this is a posh place._

_"Good evening, Sirs..." the maître d’ greets us with a short bow. "Table for two?"_

“Yes, reservation under Corben,” I say.

The maître d’ nods. “Very good, Sirs... right this way.”

We’re escorted to our private dining room and seated. The finer things have never mattered to me like they have for you - but I have to admit, sometimes it’s nice to have the luxury option and have privacy in lifts, restaurants, and planes.

So that I can take your hands in mine across the table without being gawped at, and sigh, “You’re fucking beautiful, you know that?”

_It's good to have people gawking at us as we stride through the restaurant, but when I'm having dinner I prefer my privacy._

_"As are you... that suit looks stunning on you. The subtle blue hue brings out your eyes..." I smile._

_God - married for 25 years, and we're still two swooning teenagers..._

We place our orders, and soon after our drinks arrive. I drink some of my imported ale and lean back in my chair.

“Well. When Victoria first mentioned a photo shoot, I expected it would get complex... but I didn’t expect anything on _that_ scale. Extras, Jim?” I laugh, and take another drink. “But I should have known you’d surprise me... And - I didn’t expect it to get that quite so hot, either... part of me wanted to say, to hell with everyone in the room, just _take_ me...” I smile at you lasciviously.

_"You're more of an exhibitionist than I? Inconceivable," I smile._

_"I was tempted, but - like I said, it felt too intimate to do in front of others. I may be getting vanilla in my old age..."_

“I wouldn’t consider orchestrating an elaborate photo shoot that includes cutting the clothing off someone and culminating in fellatio _particularly_ vanilla,” I say drily. “But then - the line in the sand has moved significantly since meeting you... my deviant darling...” I curl my hand around yours and raise it to my lips.

_"It was a good photo shoot though," I smile contently. "It wouldn't have looked right without the extras - they give the spaces that realistic feel, rather than just a scenic backdrop that could have been a photograph. And what would we have done without the bodyguards? How pathetic would we have looked? You know a crime boss without his bodyguard is just... pointless..."_

_I pull your hand towards mine and kiss it in turn._


	2. Jimmy

The server arrives with our starters - breaded calamari for you, and crab cakes for me.

I dip my cake into a creamy sauce and start to bite it into it before I just cram it into my mouth. After chewing for a couple of moments, I swallow. Washing it down with a mouthful of beer, I smirk at you.

“God... being outmanoeuvred by a crime boss, then dominated and fucked is hungry work... who knew?”

_"If anyone, surely it would have been you? How long have we been married now?"_

I pretend to count on my fingers and feign getting confused. Scratching my head and mumbling, I stare at the ceiling.

Then I snap my fingers. “Twenty-five!” I say triumphantly. With a glowing smile, I hold up my glass. “To twenty-five beautiful years... you’ve done the impossible, Jim. You took a broken ex-soldier, brought his heart back to life... and actually made him happy...” I say softly. “In my mind that’s the greatest of all your accomplishments...”

_I can feel how soft my gaze is, how lovingly my eyes gleam._

_"I wholeheartedly agree," I reply. "Nothing I've ever done is worth a damn compared to making you smile..."_

I can’t help but beam at you.

“To you, my beautiful love... and to us...”

I clink my glass against yours and drink, gazing at you as you delicately sip your mojito. “Well. No one would believe us to be badass scary criminals... the sweet retired gay couple is the perfect cover...” I say with a wink.

_"The sweet retired gay couple who alarm their neighbours when having sex..." I grin, and you laugh. "Sweet, retired, *noisy* gay couple... even better. No one would suspect us of a thing."_

"Nah, they'd just think 'aww, that's so cute' and then 'oh - my - they're going at it rather hard, aren't they?'," I give you a comically alarmed look then snigger into my drink. "They have no idea, the precious little flowers... it's adorable, really..."

_"Mmm," I agree, with my last mouthful of calamari. I wash it down with my white wine._

_"Ah... you can say what you like, Tiger, but this is the life... a fine dining room, delicious food and drink, a well-dressed husband, after a day of high-class arts and entertainment..."_

"A well-dressed husband?" I arch an eyebrow as I drink my beer. "I happen to know a certain someone who finds my assassin gear rather... compelling..."

_"I hope you duly assassinated them..." I say archly._

_You snigger. "Oh, I've blown his brains out... *many* times..."_

_I laugh at that, as the waiters come in carrying our mains - lamb roast for you, yellowtail for me, along with a fresh ale and cold glass of white._

_The waiter carrying the drinks looks uncertainly from you to me, holding an envelope._

_"I am terribly sorry Sirs - but is either of you called 'Jimmy'?"_

Taken aback, I catch your eye. Who the fuck would be contacting us through a restaurant? And - _Jimmy?_

My suspicious look lasts for a fraction of a second - then I direct an indignant one at the waiter with all the force that a centuries-old aristocratic background trains you to give your inferiors from the time you learn to walk.

"What?" I scowl at him, and he looks momentarily alarmed. "Whatever gave you that impression? And is this how you pass messages to your guests - like something from a bad spy film?"

_Oh dear, Mr Waiter. You've unleashed Lord Moran. He doesn't come out often, but when he does, he's formidable. All over the world people shit their underwear and scramble to make him happy._

_However, this poor guy seems unable to do the latter. Not sure about the former._

_"I am so terribly sorry, Mr Corben... This is most irregular, I assure you. One of the sous-chefs gave me this, with the instruction to go to your table and ask for 'Jimmy'. Of course this has never happened before... it must be his idea of a prank... I do apologize, I will have a stern word with his manager..."_

_"Give me the envelope," I say. It doesn't look remarkable - a small envelope, of a size that can be easily shoved into a waistcoat pocket. A woman's handwriting - 'Jimmy'. No powder, no smell. I open it with my as yet unused fish knife. Inside is what looks like a photograph._

_"Please get this sous-chef for us. I'd like to have a word with him."_

_"Certainly, Sirs," the waiter nods, and heads out._

_I take the photograph out of the envelope._

_It's you and me - this afternoon. For a second, I think it's a joke from Victoria - but this is not one of the photographs taken by Jake. In fact, Jake is *in* the picture - it's taken from a balcony overlooking the grand foyer._

_Wordlessly, I hand it to you._

I take it from you, still scowling. I scan it for a moment, then toss it onto the table like it has a bad smell.

“What. The actual. Fuck.” I mutter. I look back at the door murderously, then at you. “I have a sudden urge to show this sous-chef my filleting technique. Any idea what this is about?”

_"He'll be gone..." I predict, and indeed the waiter comes in apologizing profusely that the sous-chef seems to have disappeared without a trace, and they're *so* sorry to have caused us upset, and would we please accept a bottle of wine on the house, because nothing makes everything suddenly better like getting me drunk and forgetting about mysterious photographs._

_"What the fuck is this, Tiger..." I scowl. I've searched the envelope and photograph, there's nothing else there; no writing, no coded message, except the blatantly obvious one - 'I'm watching you.'_

_But who!?_

“Someone’s idea of a game,” I say in a low growl. “Do they have any idea who they’re playing with?”

I pick up the knife from the table and slice through my roast with precision.

“If they don’t know... they’ll be in for a surprise...” I say softly, looking at the meat on my fork before sliding it into my mouth and chewing.

I swallow it down and have a sip of ale.

“If they do know...”

I wipe my mouth with a pristine white napkin and throw it onto the table. “Then... our trip may have a slightly different theme than we planned...”

_Well that's your warrior instincts primed and ready. Except we don't know who the enemy is..._

_And that's my job. I point, you punch. But I have no idea who to point at._

_It *could* be a prank by Victoria - but it's too involved, and not funny. She's got a better sense of humour than that._

_Matty trying to show us that he's got what it takes - he can trace even us? That doesn't make sense either - it's not like we've made a secret of where we are._

_It *does* point towards enemies, rather than friends - and we have a whole load more of the former than the latter. But who? Who would want to show off - I know where you are, and I could have shot you - rather than, well, just shoot us when they had the opportunity?_

_And who *could* know where we are? We took all the usual precautions booking this trip, and it's not like we've done anything while on it to attract attention... well - not of that kind._

_My mind is drawn to the mysterious phone call. Was that them as well, or am I being paranoid and seeing links where there are none? And what about Matty? Is this linked with the trouble he's in - MI6 -_

_I pause in chewing my fish._

_Not him, surely._

_He's retired - didn't want to, but there were compelling health reasons. Should be in the south of France somewhere drinking expensive wine and reading Homer in the original Klingon -_

_*but why is his the first name that comes to mind?*_

I watch you think through this puzzle, and continue to eat at a leisurely pace. I don’t want to interrupt too soon, or hurry you.

After several moments, I have another drink of ale.

“We should get in touch with Matty - see what’s going on with him, and what he may know... do you have any thoughts about who this could be?”

_"No..." I say, rubbing my face. You look at me in the tone of an experienced husband who doesn't believe me._

_"It's just - MI6. If Matty's in trouble with MI6 - and it's related to what's going on here -"_

“MI6... right...” I say slowly. You stare at me, and somehow just your gaze seems to make the connections in my mind fly faster.

“If it was a probe into our international affairs that were of interest to them... this doesn’t seem like their standard way of conducting business. More like a strange route to try to get to you... like... it’s _personal_.”

The words fall from my lips like bombs, and I shiver.

_I nod, slowly._

_"That's what I was thinking. If it were any of our rivals - they'd have shot us. Or one of us. To get rid of us, or to get revenge. If it's MI6 *proper* - they'd focus on the Empire, not us personally. So if they were thinking that we were here to work - why would they take a picture of us? If they were stalking us to see if we were going to do anything more illegal than being a noise nuisance, they wouldn't want to *tell* us._

_So - someone is thinking they can *toy* with us._

_Play games with us._

_Like I used to do with his brother."_

My heart rate has been increasing since the waiter first asked about your name. Now it slams in my chest and doesn’t stop. I put my fork down and look at you hard.

“Mycroft,” I mutter, my lip curling.

We stare at each other for a long moment.

“Now? After all this time, fucking _now??”_ I growl, my fists clenching on the table.

_"Not necessarily," I say, putting my hand on your fist. "It could be someone else - a powerplay by some crime boss who wants to intimidate us prior to negotiations - it could be anyone. But - the fact that Matty's finding trouble with MI6 at the very same time makes me... uncomfortable."_

_I sigh. "Mycroft's not well. He's forcibly retired - he might be getting bored. Or - he might, very belatedly, have found out it wasn't Ryder who killed Sherlock after all..."_

I exhale forcefully. “Regardless of _who_ , I don’t like this, Jim! _Especially_ not when we’re out in the open like this...”

Fuck... do I have enough weapons? Well, we have our contacts; I can easily get more.

I look at your hand on mine. If something were to happen to you...

“Should we go back home?” I ask grimly.

_Aw - you're going into protective Tiger mode._

_I've never been able to resist protective Tiger mode._

_I lift your hand, kiss the back of it. You scowl at me, like I'm not taking this seriously._

_"Sweetness - what are we going to do back home? Fortify the pigeon loft? You're magnificent, but even you are not able to fight off the full might of MI6 if they come for us. But - they never have. And that was because we had an understanding - we knew where we were, as it were, with one another. I didn't wreck Britain too much; Mycroft didn't come for me. I nearly blew it with my game with Sherlock - turned out the Ice Man had feelings after all - but all these years we've managed to keep a delicate balance. He knows that getting rid of me is too risky - it would leave a vacuum that could be filled by anyone, and whoever anyone is might not be as deft in their movements as I have been._

_So... I'm not sure what this is supposed to be. A *game*? He used to chide Sherlock and me for being *childish* - he hated our games. But - what else can it be? It's not a declaration of war. It's a show of - not even force; cunning. Why?_

_Or, like I said, it might be someone else, and Matty's stuff is entirely unrelated. We should get in touch with him tomorrow though..."_

“Ugh... I haven’t had to hear _that name_ in years... and now I’ve heard it three times in the space of a few minutes,” I say, gritting my teeth. “Yes, _I know_ \- bigger things to focus on, it’s in the past, bla bla...”

I sigh and twist the stem of my water glass. It’s awfully tempting to snap it...

But no, I can control my temper... Sherlock’s been dead for how many years now, I think to myself. A feeling of satisfaction settles over me.

“It was a beautiful birthday present, my love,” I say wistfully and smile when you squeeze my hand.

_"I knew it was an old hurt for you... best to let you lance the boil," I smile back. It hadn't been that difficult to get Sherlock - he always responded so predictably to any promising lure you threw at him - but avoiding the suspicions of his brother had been trickier. I did manage to, however, and seeing the look on your face when you saw Sherlock trussed up like a turkey, ready for you to do with what you wanted - was worth anything._

“I’ll never forget it... god was he mouthy, right to the end. Didn’t do him any good, though...” I give you a feral grin.

_I'd never hurt you more than when I was obsessed with that stupid detective - and subsequently died. We'd talked about it, but it was still a major sore point for you. So when I saw the opportunity to make him disappear and make it look like the work of someone else - one of the many people he'd antagonized; I had my pick - I took it._

_I think it took away the last doubts you had about me still having some sort of hots or fascination for him - and allowed you to work off your anger on him._

We’re staring at each intently now, your hand grasping mine.

“Most people don’t have utterly romantic moments reminiscing about the murdering of adversaries... especially as a birthday gift,” I murmur.

“Don’t they?” You arch an eyebrow. The ‘sweet old retired gay couple’ cover is more and more diabolical...” you say lightly.

“Yeah... and in my mind, whoever sent that picture just asked to see what’s underneath...” I drawl. “Good thing our schedule is clear, darling...”

_"Our schedule is *not* clear," I scowl. "I'm on my fucking *second honeymoon* with my *gorgeous husband*, and someone thinks that's a proper time to start playing *games*??"_

_I knock back half a glass of the free wine._

_"What do we do? When I sent out little teasers, I'd at least give Sherlock something to work with... this picture is just a nod - 'I'm watching you' - but there's nothing else, no trail to follow... not that I would follow a trail. I'm not Sherlock, and I'm not stupid."_

_I sigh._

_"What do you want to do, my love? Go to our next destination and see if our stalker gets bored or keeps up? Go somewhere unexpected and see if we can lose them? Go back home and set Hypatia on them?"_

I smile at the image of Hypatia lying in wait to pounce on shadowy men in dark suits. Twirling my glass around, I watch the water swirl and glisten under the soft lights.

“Maybe we should see if we can draw them out... _before_ we arrive at Casa Guarida del Tigre...” My hand tightens on the glass. “What if they track us there? Or what if _they already know_ about it?”

_I sigh._

_"I don't know, Tiger. At the moment there's not a lot we can do, except run, and I don't really want to do that. They're not aggressive yet - just showing they got their eye on us. How would we draw them out? Go on a murder spree?"_

I curse, and finish my ale. "Murder spree is sounding good right now! Fine. Lose them, then. Change identities, go somewhere easy to get lost in a crowd... We’re already heading to Vegas next...”

_I nod. We planned that, but there's no reason they'd know our plans. It's not like we've been lying low here in New York - someone might have recognized us and tipped someone off. It might still be some New York mafioso who will get in touch in a few days to let us know how powerful and omnipresent he is. I'll gladly refer him back to Matty._

_*If only there wasn't an MI6 thing at the same time...*_

_Coincidences happen, Moriarty._

_Go to Vegas, get a haircut, let Seb dye his, and live it up. You're only young once..._

I watch you as your mind goes into calculation mode, and return to my meal. It’s hard to focus on it, though...

“What are you thinking?” I ask quietly.

_"Buy tickets to Minorca, check in, board the plane, in name only. Get a haircut, you grow your beard, we go to Vegas; see what happens next._

_Keep an eye on things with Matty - get him to check in daily."_

“Oh so I get to grow a beard!” I say lightly. “You made me shave it off on our first honeymoon...”

_"If it's to keep you safe, you can grow an entire forest of dreadlocks..." I growl._

Aww... you get so worried about me, don’t you, Jim...

I laugh despite your serious topic. “I’ll probably stop short of dreadlocks,” I say wryly. “What do you think - platinum or strawberry blond? It’s been a while since I’ve dyed it...”

_Oh - you're dyeing it as well? Probably wise... maybe I should as well, but I *hate* dyeing my hair. I hate the smell, the feeling, the look, the way it grows out in like three days..._

_Oh well. It wouldn't be the first time._

_*Of course if it's someone who has access to CCTV and facial recognition software dyeing won't make much of a difference...*_

You remain silent and don’t answer my question. I guess it doesn’t really matter, when you consider what we might be facing... I just thought it might make you feel better to have a say.

“A touch of strawberry blond, then... goes better with the ginger beard,” I grin.

You still say nothing, looking thoughtful and troubled.

“Jim... in three decades of working together, we’ve faced dire circumstances more times than I can count. And we’ve still come out on top. I suppose it was too much to think that would go away when we retired... but the plus side is, we can handle threat and danger with one hand tied behind our backs. Although I don’t recommend it,” I say airily.

_"Yes - and I don't mind facing dire circumstances if it's our own doing. If we seek it out - which we mostly do. But - when we're on *holiday*... *Retired*, even... how dare they."_

_I know it doesn't make sense, but I'm personally miffed._

“Our mystery stalker was terribly rude to not to take that into consideration,” I say, my eyes narrowing. “Perhaps we can make somebody pay for that when we figure out who ‘somebody’ is... that would be fun to look forward to...”

_"Oh, they'll *pay*..." I frown, then look at my plate. That yellowtail really deserved better than being scoffed back without being tasted._

“Good,” I mutter. Leaning back in my chair, I finish off my ale. I’m dangerously close to brooding, but I don’t want to let this affect our fucking _second honeymoon_.

Shit.

I look up and see you scowling.

Sighing I hold out my hand and take yours. “One way or another... they will suffer. Let’s not let it ruin a single moment, Jim... this means too much,” I growl softly.

_"You're right," I sigh, call for the waiter. "Dessert, please."_

_I have profiteroles, while you opt for a cheese platter with another ale. We chat and flirt and I almost forget about the mysterious photograph, except the bloody thing is still lying there. With a scowl, I shove it into my jacket pocket._

After you put away the picture, your dessert remains unfinished. After watching you poke at the remains with a fork for a moment, I put my hands on the table.

“Alright...I think dinner is officially done,” I announce. “Let’s head back to the room, Jim. We’ll feel better when we’re in bed, having a cuddle...”

_"They put me off my *profiteroles*." I pout. "My vengeance shall be terrible."_

“When the time comes, you can tell them that,” I soothe, standing up. “They interfered with your enjoyment of profiteroles, and their suffering will be all the more horrific for it...”

I hold out my arm to you, smiling.

_When we get upstairs, I open the laptop, look closer at what Matty has been working on._

_The kid's been doing everything as he should be - he's not a genius like me, but he's clever, and diligent._

_But he's right; there's something off. In Chile - but in Siberia as well. And Vietnam. And - Germany._

_All usually quiet areas. Not trouble spots._

_What on earth is happening?_

_You sit down beside me. "Jim... this is not going to be resolved tonight. We can call Matty in the morning - it's too late now."_

_Reluctantly, I nod._

In bed, I pull you towards me. We kiss sweetly, and you bury your face in my neck.

I stroke your hair gently. “Do you want to watch a film? Get your mind off things?”

_"Have you met my mind, Tiger?" I groan. But maybe it will help you._

_We quibble about the film - no superheroes Tiger, you *know* that - and no horror - you nix a romantic comedy - eventually we settle on a recent thriller, which is not too bad, but only serves to remind me of our own very unwelcome thrilling adventures._

I look over at you as the credits start rolling. There’s a line between your eyes, and tightness in your jaw.

Nope. Film didn’t help at all.

“Well that didn’t work...” I say lightly. “I would suggest a good hard fuck, but we did that just a couple of hours ago...”

_"Tempting as you are, Tiger, the fact that someone was within shooting range of you and showed us evidence of it has kind of put me off... what do you know, I *am* going vanilla in my old age," I frown._

_"Let's go to sleep - maybe I'll think up something clever during the night."_

I open up my arms and you settle against me. “You _are_ something clever in the night...” I murmur as I draw you even closer and kiss your hair.

“My clever, deadly Kitten...” I yawn, closing my eyes.

_I don't dream any easy solution, so decide to stick with the plan - you grow a beard, I grow my stubble, you dye your hair ginger to match your beard, and we head to Vegas like we planned, except via some convoluted route, at one point involving Victoria and Jake, to whom we effuse about the amazing quality of the pictures. They are really very good._

_But I can't help thinking of the photograph of both of us and Jake, taken from the balcony, whenever I look at the pictures from the Foyer._

_Meanwhile, our aliases here get on a plane to Spain._

_If it's anyone but the most major player, we should have disappeared now._

_When we walk through Vegas, I can almost feel anonymous in the large crowds._

_Almost..._

I'm glad we're here before we move on to Mexico. But I have no idea if we'll shake them, or if they're better than that...

well if they are, then they probably already know about our Mexican villa, and no amount of subterfuge or wishful thinking will change that...

 _Fuck_...

When we arrive at the hotel, I throw myself down on the bed and sigh.

"Now what the fuck do we do? Do our best to blend in? We could go clubbing, and bring home a hot plaything... for our cover, of course..." I say lightly.

_"The last thing I want is to share you with someone else when I feel you're under threat..." I growl. "You're mine, Sebastian Moriarty, and no one gets in between us - no hot plaything, no mysterious stalker, no one..."_

Ohh. I’ve awoken something in you... this is not sweet Jim or playful Jim or relaxed Jim.

No, this is _Moriarty_...

possessive...

jealous...

and deadly serious.

“Sorry, darling...” I murmur, kissing your hand. “Just trying for some levity... I don’t care about anyone else, you know that...”

_"Oh, I know... they'd be dead if you did," I smile menacingly._

_Geez. Calm down, Moriarty. It's not Tiger’s fault you're in danger._

_But I just want to fold you up and store you in my pocket to keep you safe... and I know you feel the same way._

_"Might as well do some Vegasy things while we're here... see the fountains, go to a casino, blow some money. I don't think we should go dancing... don't want to attract attention just yet."_

“Mmm, there’s no way you could go dancing without attracting attention,” I breathe, gazing into your hypnotic eyes. “Vegasy things it is...”

_We head to the fountains, see the light show, stroll round the casinos, lose some money on roulette, which I win back on blackjack by counting the cards, get a bit drunk, not too much._

If I was on my own, I’d be heading to a poker room and playing for some serious stakes - after all, we have insane amounts of money at our disposal, and it’s entertaining as hell watching people get over their heads and lose their poker faces. It’s not like the money will be missed if I blow my load, so to speak, on one reckless hand.

But there’s no way I’m leaving you alone while we’re potentially being watched. And I don’t think you can focus on poker while all _this_ is still up in the air.

When you win again at blackjack, I nudge you. “Had enough?” I murmur. “We can connect with Matty, see what’s up?”

_"Yeah, good idea," I nod. "Let's head back to the hotel and see how the little one is doing."_

_The next morning, I wake up in a deep pit of black tar. It takes forever to swim to the surface, but I have to - I have to wake up at some point, I'm sure..._

_I can breathe easier, but it's dark, and there are symbols on the wall in luminescent paint, but I can't discern them..._

_*Something's wrong*._

_There is, isn't there... I don't generally sleep in tar pits..._

_*Missing feeling.*_

_Something missing? What's missing? I have my foot... my other foot... my teeth..._

_*Tiger.*_

_Where's Tiger?_

_I don't feel Tiger. That's not right, right? Tiger is normally in the bed. Warm and big and protection._

_Tiger on the loo? But the bed is cold._

_*Wake up Jim for fuck's sake -*_

_I struggle to open my eyes. My head hurts and is heavy - how much did we drink last night? When did we even get home? I don't remember at all..._

_*I don't. I don't remember a thing. We were in the casino, and then -_

_what??*_

_My eyes scan the room. I'm in bed, my clothes are over the chair._

_No Tiger. No Tiger clothes. Door to the bathroom open, bathroom empty._

_*Rising panic.*_

There’s a feeling of thick gluey soup in my head... wha-?

Soup?

I wince as a throbbing pain begins in what feels like the middle of my brain...

Hangover? No... hangovers aren’t that uncommon for me, but they don’t feel like this.

And did I even have that much to drink last night?

Last night...

I turn to check if you’re awake so I can ask you what happened.

That’s when I realize.

I’m not in the hotel.

I’m in a dark room on the floor.

Oh shit...

And my arms are cuffed behind my back.

Oh.

Shit.

_I force my body to move, but all my muscles are either unresponsive or painful._

_I roll myself to your side of the bed, look at the bedside table, the floor._

_Nothing. No phone, no clothes. Most seriously, no Tiger._

_What the fuck *happened*!?_

_I hammer at my sluggish brain to get *working*, damn it. What happened last night? We were in a casino, laying low, losing some money, winning some back -_

_Did the casino owners work out I was counting the cards and take us out?_

_No - nonsense - that only happens in gangster films. If they'd suspected I was counting cards at all, which they wouldn't have, because it's nigh impossible these days, they'd have asked us to stop playing. And they didn't, and didn't need to - we just won back what we'd lost at roulette, weren't raking in the dollars._

_Ugh - my brain keeps drifting off into nothingness - *think* Moriarty -_

_We were going to go home. We'd stopped playing and were going to check in on Matty._

_Nothing after that. Just oblivion._

_With utmost effort, I manage to manipulate my body into a form of sitting, then walking - well - lurching would be a better description. Different parts of my legs keep giving out. Hugging the wall, I manage to get to the door, then the living room._

_Empty._

Shit - the restraints are sturdy, not easily wriggled out of... something an elite military unit might use, even. Whoever it is who’s done this is not fucking about...

but that doesn’t mean it’s impossible to escape.

I just - need - some - time -

I grit my teeth as I begin my manoeuvres.

My brain is still fuzzy, but luckily such things are second nature to me.

Who _the fuck_ did this?

I’m sure you’ll get to the bottom of it even more quickly than I will -

Oh god – _Jim_ -

I stop my struggling. Fuck. Did they take you too??

My jaw sets and I return to the task at hand.

_Fuck._

_*Fuck, fuck, FUCK!!!*_

_Something happened. Must have done. That picture was a warning - and I was too *slow*, too *stupid*, too *complacent*, to understand it –_

_and I ignored it and now you're *gone* -_

_oh god Sebastian –_

_dead –_

_tortured –_

_crying out for me, and I let you *down* -_

_I'm spiralling._

_Stop it, Jim. Going into a daze of guilt and worry is not going to solve this._

_I lurch to the coffee maker, reach to use it -_

_wait._

_Whoever did this - if *this* is a thing, and not a major coincidence - we went to a club because I fancied a dance, someone spiked our drinks, we had a fight and you stomped off to some other hotel while I went back here in a huff - they could have drugged the coffee -_

_Ugh. I *need* something to clear my head. I need - to do something. I don't know what's happened, and I'm not thinking straight. Panic, and whatever drug I had - fuck it, I'll risk the coffee. And - I should just call you; if you're anywhere *not* kidnapped or killed, you'll pick up your phone, and you'll be puzzled as well, and we'll work out where you are and you'll come back and I'll wrap myself around you and never let you go -_

_As the espresso machine coughs out what looks and smells like perfectly normal coffee, I walk back to the bedroom to get my phone._

_It's not there._

_Of course not._

_With a sinking heart, I pick up the hotel phone and dial your number._

_It rings and rings and goes to voicemail._

_I don't leave a message._


End file.
